


the best medicine

by restless5oul



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Implied Romance, Mostly friendship, Multi, Sick Fic, ambiguous poly ship, fluff mostly, lando can't cook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restless5oul/pseuds/restless5oul
Summary: george is sick. alex and lando are on hand to (kind of) help.





	the best medicine

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a silly little sick fic i wrote because i wanted to write something, and i wanted to do something with the three rookies.  
i don't usually write fics like this, but it was easy and cute and i wrote it in about an hour.  
so enjoy!! it's lighthearted and not too deep.

The first thing Alex noticed when he walked through the door was the strong smell of bleach. As soon as he inhaled he felt his eyes water as the stench filled his nose until it made his head spin.

“What is that?” Lando asked, curling his lip and attempting to cover his nose with his hand. Which was difficult given the two heavy plastic bags he held.

“He’s cleaning,” Alex said, noticing the perfectly symmetrical rows of shoes by the door, all organised according to colour, and the gleaming hard wood floor they were stepping on.

“Why?” Lando asked, and Alex didn’t have a good answer.

Unless he had decided that now was the perfect time for a full fumigation of the house, George cleaning so thoroughly usually didn’t mean anything good.

Sure enough, when the two of them entered the kitchen, laden with groceries, George was hunched over the sink, furiously scrubbing a pan. The rest of the kitchen was gleaming; the only mess was the overflowing bubbles from the copious amounts of washing up liquid George had clearly poured into the hot water.

“George?” Lando called out, looking a little wary as he put his bags down on the kitchen table, flexing his wrists from where they no doubt ached from holding them.

“Oh you’re back. Did you manage to get everything?” George replied with no more than a cursory glance over his shoulder. Alex couldn’t see his face properly, but his voice sounded stuffy.

Rather than simply asking, because he knew he wouldn’t get a real answer, Alex walked over to the sink. Up close he could see how pale George’s face looked, and the drops of perspiration settling on his forehead. Though they could have just been from the effort of attacking the pan with the sponge, he doubted it.

“Is everything alright?” Alex asked quietly, reaching across to push George’s hair off his forehead, and place the back of his hand against his skin. As he expected, the skin beneath his hand was hot and feverish.

“M’fine,” George mumbled, refusing to turn or even look at Alex.

“You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine!” George said, more aggressively this time, dropping the pan into the soapy water with a splash and sending warm water splashing over the sides and onto his feet, “God’s sake!”

George shook his hands trying to brush off the water, staring down at his jeans and feet which were now sodden. The expression on his face was disproportionately upset at the sight of his wet clothes.

“You’re ill,” Lando said, having appeared at George’s other side, and clutching his elbow in a wordless attempt to calm him down.

“I can’t get ill,” George said, like he could ward off sickness with sheer resilience and determination, “I don’t have the time to be sick.”

“It’s not really a choice,” Lando shrugged.

“I don’t want to be ill,” George groaned, his shoulders slumping as though he was finally admitting defeat.

“Come on, you should have some rest,” Alex said softly, placing a hand on the small of George’s back.

“Okay,” George nodded and he let Alex and Lando lead him out of the kitchen.

“Wait! You’ll need these,” Lando exclaimed suddenly, turning back and heading to the living room. He bundled up the blankets that were still strewn across the sofa from the movie night they’d had the evening before. His arms full of fluffy material Lando waddled behind Alex and George and followed them into the bedroom.

Once George was in bed, looking drained and dazed, Lando carefully arranged the blankets around him, tucking him in tightly.

“Thanks,” George mumbled.’

“We’ll get you some water, just stay here,” Alex said, brushing George’s hair off his damp forehead.

“Okay,” George nodded, reaching up and squeezing Alex’s hand.

“Sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

***

George didn’t know how long he’d been asleep for when he was woken up by the sound of clattering and banging coming from the kitchen. That was the first thing he noticed. The second was some kind of heavenly smell wafting in through the gap in the slightly ajar bedroom door.

He tried to roll over but found it difficult with the mountain of blankets he was buried beneath. He was glad they were there though when he felt the cold shivers running through his body, not helping his swollen throat and pounding head.

Still, he wanted to go see what the fuss was all about, as he was envisioning Lando causing chaos and destruction in the kitchen.

“Lando! You’re supposed to be helping!” he could hear Alex chastising as he gingerly stood up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders like some sort of cape. Alex didn’t sound genuinely annoyed, there was a touch of affection and amusement in his tone.

“I _am_ helping, I’m your sous chef,” he heard Lando reply just as he opened the door. The smell was even stronger now that he was shuffling towards the kitchen. He could see Lando stood over the stove, a wooden spoon in his hand, stirring something in a steaming pot. With his other hand he was trying to reach for a pair of pans that were lying on the floor by his feet.

Alex was stood by the sink, washing up, shaking his head fondly. George coughed raspily, getting both of their attention.

“You’re supposed to be in bed!” Lando said, finally letting go of the spoon so he could pick up the pans. He didn’t seem to realise that the spoon was now submerged in whatever was in the pot.

Alex hurried over, rather unnecessarily helping George into a chair at the kitchen table. He placed a mug of tea in front of him, and a couple of painkillers. He gave George a fairly condescending pat on the head before he darted back to the kitchen, no doubt to try salvage the food that Lando had been standing guard over.

“Ginger and lemon, for your throat,” he said. George sipped the warm tea, closing his eyes and savouring the feeling of it soothing his throat.

When he opened his eyes again there was a bowl in front of him, steaming hot and filling his nostrils with the smell that had woken him up.

“Chicken soup,” Lando said proudly, “I made it.”

“You _helped_,” Alex corrected, as they both sat down on either side of George.

“This is great guys, thank you,” George said, his voice croaky and strained.

“It’s alright, we’re going to have you better in no time,” Alex smiled.

After George had drained his bowl of soup he found himself sat on the sofa, still cocooned in his blanket, his head resting on Alex’s lap and Lando pressed into his side. Lando lifted George’s arm so he could snuggle underneath it.

“I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing that,” George mumbled as Alex carded his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

“Good. That’s the best medicine.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,” George said as he felt Lando press a kiss to his shoulder.

“That’s why we’re here.”


End file.
